Ghosts that I once knew
by dominoharvey
Summary: Natasha sees someone from her past, and Tony tries to help her recover. IronWidow fic
1. Chapter 1

Natasha sat on the couch in the living room. The TV was on but all she saw was moving pictures and flashes of light. She had no idea what the show was called, what it was about. She couldn't even tell if it was a TV show or a movie. To her the images weren't real. The room, the house wasn't real. But the pain, that was real. It was threatening to pull her under and it was taking everything she had to keep it at bay. She'd gone so long turning a blind eye to everything that it was finally catching up with her. God dammit. It would be so much easier to just not feel anything.

She had tried going to sleep but every time she closed her eyes she saw the faces. Young, old. Boys, girls. Bruised, beaten. Bloody. So much blood.

Natasha was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear Tony come in. She didn't hear him close the door and drop his coat and bag on the floor. She didn't see him wait for her to scold him for not putting his things away. Nor did she see him frown and walk further into the house. It wasn't until he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder that she reacted. She jumped a foot in the air, moving away from the couch and whoever was touching her. Her hands came up in a defensive stance until she realized that it was just Tony. He stared at her, eyes wide. "Babe, what's wrong?" he said slowly. Natasha lowered her hands and they curled into fists. She was breathing hard but she didn't know why. Everything felt like it was slowly slipping away. "Whoa." Tony said as he reached out to steady her. Natasha flinched as he touched her again. Tony saw her react and dropped his hands. "Natasha what's wrong? Did I leave the toilet seat up again? Did Jarvis try talking to you in the shower? I've told him repeatedly to keep his digital engineered hands off or else I'll sell him on e-bay but he doesn't seem to-" he stopped when he saw her face. She didn't know what she looked like at that moment but she knew how she felt. She felt anxious, mad, scared. Depressed, exhausted. Mad. Terrified. Whatever it was it made him stop talking and walk towards her slowly. He held up his own hands, as an innocent person would to prove they mean no harm.

"Natasha…babe what's wrong? What happened?" Natasha hands were still in fists but now they were shaking. Her whole body was. She didn't feel it but she could see her hands vibrating. Tony was now in front of her. His eyes searched her face but Natasha wasn't looking at him. She couldn't. "Natasha." Tony said again, a little louder this time. "Nat…okay you're starting to scare me here so will you please talk to me." His hands hovered around her, as if he wanted to hold her but was unsure of how she'd react.

Natasha tried to say something but her throat was blocked. It was like someone was squeezing it. Like he had squeezed it. She screamed suddenly, taking an involuntary step back and thus tripping over one of the stairs. Tony reached for her to pull her back and suddenly she was in his arms. She beat her fists against him, struggling to pull away. All she could think of was other hands that had grabbed at her. That had held her tight. Tony held her close, despite her struggles. He was afraid that if he let go she would hurt herself, or would just lose it.

Every instinct in her body told her to keep fighting but eventually her struggles stopped. The shaking stayed, but Tony held her tight enough that she barely felt it. "I saw him." she finally said. She spoke so quietly Tony almost missed it. He felt himself stiffen as he held her. "Saw who?" he asked softly. She had begun to cry but she wasn't making any noise. Tony smoothed her hair back from her face. "Natasha, baby, saw who?" Natasha looked up but she still refused to look him in the eye. "I saw…I saw someone I knew from the Red Room." Tony bit his lip. "Who was it?" Whose ass am I kicking would be a better question but he didn't think now was the best time for him to be himself. Now that she was no longer thrashing he led her over to the couch. They sat so that they were still entwined but that they were side-by-side. Natasha pulled away, tears streaking down her face. Tony waited, hoping that she would finally tell him what was wrong.

Natasha took a shaky breath and began to talk. "When I was thirteen the Red Room sent me on my first mission overseas. I'd been in the field since I was eight but this is the first time I'd been sent somewhere so far away. The mission was like all the others, seduce the mark, get the intel, and kill whoever got in the way." Tony listened while she talked but internally he was resisting the urge to break something. He knew that Natasha needed to get this out, but he always got so tense when she talked about the Red Room and the things they had done to her. This was something he couldn't destroy or kill or dismember. He could only listen. "When I got to the hotel I knew something was wrong. The room wasn't the way it was supposed to be. And he was still there. He was supposed to have gone out. I tried to take him down but he took me by surprise. Before I knew it he had me pinned on the bed and he…" she broke off, unable to go any further. Tony's knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. He was concentrating on breathing evenly, for he didn't want Natasha to know how upset this was making him.

But he made a mental note to ask Jarvis to track the fucker down once Natasha left. No fucking way he was getting away with that.

Natasha choked out another sob. "I was out today buying some stupid fucking groceries…and I saw him. He was coming out of another store. He didn't look any different. He had the same hair, the same stupid mustache. The same hands…and I froze. I stood there frozen and I couldn't move."

Tony wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her towards him. She buried her face in his chest. Natasha hated feeling weak. She hated losing control in front of anyone. But this time she couldn't get a grip and move on. It was as if she had a hole in her chest and Tony arms were the only thing keeping her from completely losing it. And as much as it made her feel weak, she was glad that he was there to keep her in one piece.

Natasha wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type, so under any other circumstances Tony would have silently rejoiced in the fact that he got to hold her for once. But this time he was holding her in case she fell apart. He held her so that if she shattered into a million pieces he would be there to put her back together.

Tony didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other. After what seemed like hours, he slowly pulled back and moved his hands so that they were on either side of Natasha's face. "Can I say something without you ripping out my jugular?" Natasha smiled slightly but didn't say anything. Tony decided to take that as a yes. "Natasha, you can't always be the saviour. You can't always be the badass redhead who saves the day and never bats an eye." Natasha opened her mouth to argue but Tony kept talking. "Please listen cause I don't normally talk about people besides myself so you should really pay attention."

"You have gone through things that no one should have to go through. Your childhood was taken from you and you didn't deserve that. But you made it out, Nat. You got out. And now you're Shield's deadliest spy, someone who can have a man on his back before he can scream." Natasha gripped his arms where he held her. "You're strong Nat." he said, knowing he had to get this out. "You're strong and you will survive this."

Natasha's face remained the same but Tony thought he saw the corner of her mouth tilt up slightly. "Why Tony Stark. That may be the cheesiest speech you've ever made." Her hand came up to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing across the skin. "But I love you for it."

He smiled at her touch. His head bent as he kissed her lightly. The shaking had gone down, and there was some color back in her cheeks.

"They can't hurt you anymore, Natasha." He said. "They won't hurt you."

It wasn't a promise or a fact, but it was enough. Enough for her thoughts to finally clear and her head to stop spinning.

She folded herself against him and he pressed his hands against her back. "You know, this is a pretty big couch…" Tony said slowly. Natasha felt a smile slowly forming on her face. She knew where this was going. "I can think of a couple things we could do to make use of all this space…" His hands were tracing patterns on her back. She lifted her head from his shoulder and smirked.

"Well then we should get started."


	2. Chapter 2

When Tony woke up it was still dark outside. Natasha lay beside him, her body pressed against his. He kissed her shoulder before sliding out of the bed, careful not to make too much noise. He threw on a shirt and a pair of jeans, not bothering to see what they looked like. He had to be quick. There was something he had to do before she realized he was gone. Not that it would make a difference if she suspected something—this was happening either way.

He went to open the door, and turned back to watch her sleeping. Fighting the urge to turn around and crawl back into bed with her, he set the security system for the room and left, closing the door silently behind him.

Jarvis had already downloaded the information he needed. Tony couldn't help but grin as he looked at the documents. This would be a short trip. He'd probably be home in time for breakfast.

It was odd leaving the house without the suit, without any kind of armour. But he didn't want to do this as Iron Man the superhero. He wanted to do this as Tony Stark, the pissed off boyfriend. And he was very pissed off.

He'd held Natasha last night, held tight enough to bruise, all the while pretending that he was okay with the situation. That it didn't bother him. He was sure that she knew he wasn't quite as passive as he'd pretended to be, but he made sure she didn't see how much it had upset it. Infuriated him.

Truthfully the only reason he hadn't left immediately was because Natasha had needed him.

But now there was nothing in his way.

The drive was short. It was a little unnerving how close the guy lived. Almost as if he'd done so deliberately, just to screw with Natasha. To get under her skin. Well, that was over now. Tony was going to make sure of that.

He parked a few blocks away. He'd driven his less conspicuous car, which, granted, was still a bit flashy, but at least it was unrecognizable. This needed to be quick and discrete.

And Tony wasn't very good at being discrete.

The house wasn't much to look at. Perfect for someone wanting to keep a low profile. Tony went around the back to the side entrance. The blueprints of the house had been accurate; Tony found the door immediately, sliding it open and slipping inside. He knew the layout of the building, knew that the guy would most likely be in the basement with all his computers and questionable programs. Tony took out the knife he'd brought with him, resting it against the back of his leg.

The stairs didn't creak when Tony walked downstairs, so the poor bastard never heard him coming. One minute the guy was crouched over his desk looking at some kind of paperwork, the next his hand was pinned to the table with the knife and he was screaming. Blood began to pool on his desk, turning the bright white pages red.

Tony stepped into view, laughing. "Man, I'm sorry. My aim is terrible. In all honesty I was going for your heart, but this is much more fun."

The guy swore at Tony before turning back to his hand. He tried to pull the blade out but all it did was make him scream louder.

"You know, if you keep doing that, I'll have to kill you right away. And that would really put a damper on my plans." Tony grabbed a chair and brought it over to where the man sat. "You see I'm planning to torture you. Make you suffer, make you wish you were dead, that kinda thing." His tone was friendly, as if he were talking about the weather.

The guy turned to look at Tony. "Who the fu—". He barely got the words out before Tony punched him. He heard the satisfying crunch when his fist made contact with the guy's nose. "Now, that's what you did, right?" Tony asked, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the man's yells. "When she tried to tell you to stop, you hit her." The man lowered the hand that was clutching his nose and glared at Tony but there was something in his eyes that wasn't before.

Fear.

"You knew she wouldn't yell or scream, of course not. They had trained her better than that." Tony's tone turned icy as he felt the anger rising. "But you couldn't just get on with it, you wanted to make it last. Make her remember it. So you took your time while you destroyed any innocence she had left."

Tony leaned in close until he could see himself reflected in the guy's eyes. "I'm going to rip you apart for what you did to her."

The sun was coming up as Tony drove back to his place. He'd changed before getting into the car; the blood had soaked into his clothes so much that his chest was still covered with the stuff. A shower was definitely on his list of things to do when he got home. Next to Natasha.

The whole thing had been so easy, everything had gone the way it was supposed to.

He stuck a knife in the guy's hand for when he'd held her wrists down. He broke his kneecaps for when he'd forced himself on top of her. Then he cut out his tongue for when he told her that it was just a part of her training. That she should learn to take it.

And then Tony killed him. Killed him because had he broken a thirteen year old girl who never deserved any of it.

He parked the car in his driveway, locking it before heading into the house. He was calm, and feeling more relaxed than he had since before last night.

The blood had seeped into his shoes too so he threw them out as he passed by the kitchen. The place was quiet; Natasha must be still asleep. Tony headed up to the bedroom, discarding pieces of clothing as he walked. He opened the door to find Natasha still in bed, her eyes closed. She was facing him, and she looked so peaceful that he had to smile. A hand rested against her stomach while the other was tucked under her head. Everything in his body told him to lay down next to her, to wrap his arms around her. But if she saw the blood she would know. And he didn't know what he would say.

He pulled himself away from her and into the bathroom. He didn't bother locking the door, just eased it shut so that he wouldn't wake her up. The water was hot and soothing and exactly what he needed. His eyes were closed, head bowed as the water washed over him.

He didn't hear the door open and close. Or the soft footsteps. Then suddenly the shower door opened and Tony whipped around. Natasha was standing in front of him, her expression neutral. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to appear more at ease. "Care to join me?" he asked, plastering a smile on his face. But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at his chest. He followed her gaze and saw that he hadn't been able to wash all of the blood away. It only took a quick glance to see that he wasn't hurt. That it wasn't his blood.

Her eyes met his and he knew. He knew that she could tell whose blood it was. Where he'd been. What he'd done. He braced himself for some kind of fight, for her to scream and yell and storm out. But instead Natasha stepped into the shower with him, pushing him against the wall. Her lips came down hard against his and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. His arms wound themselves around her, gripping her waist to pull her harder against him. Her clothes were instantly soaked but she didn't seem to mind. Her mouth slid over his, her fingers winding themselves in his hair. Eventually she pulled back, just enough so that she could see his eyes.

"Thank you." She said softly. Tony didn't know what to say, didn't know if there was anything _to _say, so he nodded once before kissing her again. He could feel everything in that kiss, the anguish, the desperation. The relief. He spun them so that she was pressed against the wall, and his hands moved under her shirt, his fingers trailing over her skin. This was how she deserved to be touched. How she was supposed to be touched. He whispered that to her as he undid the buttons on her shirt, as he kissed the crook of her neck and her collarbone. He whispered it as he removed her bra, as his fingers moved lightly over her breasts. He whispered it once her legs were wrapped around his waist and they were moving together, his mouth on her neck. He whispered it until she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

Because he couldn't make up for all of the shit that she had gone through in her past.

But he could try.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few hours (and several showers later) before Tony and Natasha headed back to base. Natasha had an appointment with Fury, and Tony wanted to get some time in at the training room. But they had dinner reservations for later, so Tony was hoping this wouldn't take too long. They parked in front of the main building, and Natasha moved to get out of the car.

'Wait." Tony said, putting his hand on her thigh. "Just wait for a minute." He unbuckled his seat belt before he moved closer, threading his fingers through her hair. "I need to do this before we get in there and I have to act like I don't want to pull you into your office and fuck you on the desk." Natasha opened her mouth to reply but Tony was already kissing her. He didn't want to be slow or gentle so when her lips opened under his he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him back just as hard and soon they were making out like teenagers. It was rough and messy and desperate but neither of them seemed to mind. Tony moved without thinking and started to pull the zipper down on Natasha's jeans. She pulled back from the kiss and stopped him before he could take them off. Tony pouted.

"If I let you undress me we'll never make it out of this car." Natasha said breathlessly. She kissed him again, long and lingering, before pulling away and stepping outside. Tony sighed and followed her out. "I'll get you for this later, Romanoff." He said. Natasha winked at him. "I certainly hope so."

They walked into Shield side by side, but they made sure not to touch or move too close. No one knew that Tony and Natasha were in a relationship, and they wanted to keep it that way. Natasha was convinced that Fury knew but she certainly wasn't going to come out and ask him about it.

They reached the fork in the hall where they had to part ways. Tony winked at her before following the passage to the training room. Natasha rolled her eyes in his general direction, moving down the hall to Fury's office.

When Tony reached the training room he found it empty save one person. Clint looked up from what he was doing when Tony walked in. He grinned at the billionaire. "Morning, Stark. Didn't expect to see you today." He stood up. "Or any day, for that matter."

"Well I figured I should visit the training room at least once. Change of scenery from the labs." Tony set down his bag before pulling off his sweatshirt.

Clint whistled. "What happened to you, Stark?"

Tony glanced up at the archer, frowning. "Come again?"

"Looks like you had a run-in with an angry tree branch or something."

Tony continued to frown at Clint before he looked down at himself—and froze. His arms and shoulders were lined with scratches. Angry, red lines that decorated his skin. And he was sure his back didn't look any better.

He'd be willing to bet the scratches were a match to the fingernails of a certain redhead.

Clint was still watching him.

Tony just grinned, shrugging. "The days all pass by in a blur. Probably fell into a bush when I was wasted a few nights ago."

Actually he hadn't had anything to drink in months.

They both just stared at each other before Clint moved, shaking his head with a grin. "Well whatever her name was Stark, I hope it was worth it."

Tony didn't know why but for some reason the comment unnerved him. His stomach tightened and he had the sudden impulse to hit something. Instead he turned away and walked over to the punching bags. _He doesn't know_. Tony kept telling himself. _He doesn't know it was Natasha. That comment wasn't for her._

Clint raised an eyebrow at Tony's obvious annoyance but didn't say anything. Each man went back to their own work, resuming their routine in silence. And if Clint thought that Tony was hitting the punching bag harder than necessary, he didn't comment on it.

Natasha's meeting with Fury went well, or as well as they ever seemed to go. She was grabbing her bag to leave when Fury stopped her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"There's one last thing I wanted to talk to you about, Romanoff." His tone was careful, hesitant. It made her look up, her expression weary. Fury wasn't one to be cautious, not even with her.

"We received information that a person of interest was killed yesterday. He came to the country from Russia last year and we'd been watching him for months, waiting to see if he could be of use." He set a folder on the table. Natasha looked through it, though she knew what she would find. Her stomach turned just looking at the picture. Ivan Antonov, 53 years old. Formally an employee of the Red Room. Discharged after an incident in Moscow.

Dead on arrival. Cause of death: blood loss and severe head trauma.

"Given your…shared history I wanted to see if there was anything else that I should know."

Natasha looked up from the files. "About Ivan, sir?"

"About his murder."

Natasha shook her head. "He had a lot of enemies, in a lot of different countries. Any one of them could have killed him, and would have had a good reason."

Fury sat back in his chair. They were both masters at keeping their emotions in check, and Natasha couldn't tell if he believed her or not. He regarded her carefully, as if he were waiting for her to say something. When she remained silent he sighed and grabbed the folder off the desk. "That will be all, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha nodded before grabbing her stuff and slipping out the door. She didn't see Fury watching her as she left, the corners of his lips twitching up as if he were smiling.

Tony was a sweaty mess when Natasha walked in to the training room. She said hi to Clint and nodded at Tony before disappearing into the locker room. When she emerged her hair was tied up and she wore yoga pants with a fitted tank top. Tony had to catch himself before his jaw dropped to the floor. Luckily Clint was talking with Natasha. So he didn't see Tony struggling to avoid staring at the way her ass looked in those pants.

"How'd your meeting with Fury go?" Clint was saying.

"Fine. My workload is going to be fairly light for a few days but he thinks he may have a job for me next week." Natasha said while she stretched. "Just a small undercover gig."

Tony was having a hard time not picturing other ways in which Natasha could use her flexibility, so he decided to end his workout early. Wiping a hand across his sweaty brow he headed into the change room seeking a cold shower and some clean clothes. He could still hear the two of them talking, though he wasn't really paying attention. His ears perked up when he heard Clint mention someone named Ivan. Like the guy from the Red Room. The one that Tony had sent to hell. How the hell did Clint know about him? Tony moved closer to the door, craning his neck to try and hear them better.

"…saw the file on Fury's desk. He said that it was a murder. Did he talk to you about it?"

"Yeah, he mentioned it." Natasha's voice was weary. "Why do you ask, Clint?"

"I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Tony heard Natasha sigh, and he had to smile.

"Yes Clint, I'm fine. Really."

"Fucker deserved it, if you ask me. After what he did. To all those people in Moscow. To all the agents. To you."

Tony froze. He pressed closer to the door, certain he'd heard him wrong.

"Clint, please I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"Tasha, I just need to know one thing."

There was a long pause. The silence lasted so long that Tony wondered if they'd left. But then Clint spoke again.

"Did you kill him? You would've been completely justified if you had, but I just wanted to k—"

"No, I didn't. I didn't kill him."

Natasha's voice was cold and hard and final and Tony hated the sound of it.

But what he hated more was that Clint had known about Ivan. About what we'd done to Natasha. And he hadn't done anything about it.

Tony quickly threw some clothes on before leaving the change room. He nodded at Natasha as he passed, avoiding Clint's gaze. Natasha kept her face blank but he could see the worry in her eyes.

He hated not being able to comfort her. He hated that he couldn't just wrap her in his arms and not care what Barton or anyone else thought. But he couldn't. So he left, walking to the car. He knew that Natasha would need a ride home, so he got inside and waited. He didn't start the car or turn on the radio. He just sat there.

He knew that Natasha had a past, and a murky one at that. And he knew that he would never know all of the details because Natasha couldn't talk about all of them. And he accepted that. But he didn't know how many more times he could face another ghost from her past before he went mad. How many times he could watch it slowly eat away at her until there was nothing left but a shell.

And how the hell could Barton have known and not done anything? Tony knew that the archer loved Natasha like a sister, so the new must have been equally infuriating. But he had been able to keep quiet, go about his life. Tony hadn't even lasted 24 hours before killing the asshole.

So what did that say about him?

When Natasha came out and saw him sitting in the car she knew that something was wrong. She got in, throwing her bag in the backseat before turning to look at him. "You heard Clint talking didn't you?"

Tony didn't say anything. He just stared straight ahead.

"Tony." Natasha said.

No response.

Natasha swore under her breath before moving out of her seat. Tony glanced up at her, startled, as she sat on top of him on the seat, legs on either side so that she was straddling him.

"I want you to listen to me, Tony." Her face was inches from his own. "Clint found out by accident a few years ago. Fury had some files out and Clint saw the wrong one. He only knew the facts. We never talked about it. I told you about what happened because I trusted you. Because I still trust you." Her hand moved to brush his hair back. "I don't regret telling you, so you shouldn't regret doing what you did."

Tony looked down. "I don't know if it's wrong or if it's right, but I did it and I'm not sorry. Whatever that may say about me." His eyes moved to hers. "I would have killed him 10 times over for touching you."

Tony stayed still a few seconds longer before pulling her close. His hands gripped her waist as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I just don't know how much longer I can do this." When Natasha frowned in concern he thread his fingers through her curls. "Knowing you're hurt and not being able to do anything about it."

"You don't have to save me, Tony."

Tony sighed in frustration. "This isn't about saving you Natasha, this is about keeping you safe. This is about being able to protect you and I don't know if I can do that and it's killing me."

The words made him sound weak and pathetic but fuck, he meant every word. He couldn't be with her if he couldn't take care of her.

Natasha inhaled sharply at the desperation in Tony's voice. "Tony, you don't have to worry about me, okay, I can ta—"

"I know you can. I know that." He shook his head. "That's not the point. I know you can kick ass and send the bad guy's packing. It's not the marks on the surface that I'm worried about." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's the wounds that don't leave scars. It's the ones that make you scream in the middle of the night." Natasha bowed her head, her eyes closing. His hands came up on either side of her face, his thumb moving softly against her cheek.

"Natasha…" He'd always liked the sound of her name on his lips. "I can't lose you."

Natasha grabbed his hands where they rested against her face. "You won't. Okay, you won't lose me." She didn't make any promises, Tony knew that she couldn't. But the conviction was there. That was enough, for now.

Then he held her tightly, until she was pressed tight enough against him that he could feel her heartbeat. "I'm think we should cancel those dinner reservations." He said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. Natasha just nodded.

After a while she said "Let's go home" and Tony drove the car out of the parking lot and back to his place, keeping a hand in Natasha's the whole ride there.


	4. Chapter 4

They spent dinner in their room, eating takeout on the bed and watching TV. They sat side-by-side, with Natasha's legs draped over Tony's lap. About halfway through the show they switched cartons (leftovers are never issue at their place) to finish off the rest of the food.

"You have to admit, this is better than some fancy restaurant." Tony said after they were done, his hands trailing up and down her legs.

Natasha sat up and pulled onto his shirt to bring him closer. "Well, staying at home does have its advantages." She said before kissing him. His hands moved up to her thighs and she moaned softly at the contact. It still amazed her that he could handle his tools and machines so roughly and yet when he touched her it was as if he was handling something precious. Something important. His lips lingered on hers before tracing his way down her neck, nibbling gently at her skin. She shifted so that she was sitting in his lap. Her legs came up on either side of his waist while he continued biting and kissing her neck. Tony couldn't stop running his hands over her legs. God, her skin was soft. He bit his lip when he felt her hands moving under his shirt. Okay, enough of this. He pushed on her body gently until she was pressed into the bed. He leaned down just as she was moving up and their lips crashed together. Her hands were at her sides and he thread his fingers through them. He could feel her smiling beneath his lips.

Their kiss was broken when the security system went off, the alarm blaring in the small room. Tony rolled off of Natasha, swearing under his breath. "Jarvis, you're killing me here." He got up from the bed and opened the bedroom door.

"That wasn't me, sir. The alarm was activated by the front door opening."

Tony paused in the doorway. "Did someone try to break in?"

"It appears that way. The system activated when the lock was turned." The alarm cut off suddenly.

Natasha joined Tony by the door. Tony put a hand on her arm. "Maybe you should stay here. I'll go downstairs."

Natasha raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

They stared at each other for a few second before Tony sighed. "Fine, fine. Let's get this over with so we can get on to bigger and better things in our room."

The house was quiet, all the lights off in the lower part of the building. Their smiles faded when they saw the front door wide open. "Jarvis, do a sweep for anything giving off body heat.' Tony said quietly.

"I'm not getting any heat signatures other than yourself and Ms. Romanoff, sir."

Jarvis's words didn't ease the tension that had crept into Tony's body.

"Baby, stay behind me."

He could almost feel the resentment coming off of her. "Please." He added when Natasha tried to argue. She continued to glare at him, but she didn't try to move either.

He walked into the living room, Natasha trailing behind him. Everything looked the same as it had a few hours ago. Empty glasses in the sink, a half empty pizza box sitting on the counter (even though Natasha had told him repeatedly to put it in the fridge). The night outside was calm through the windows, no movement save the wind that was sweeping through the trees.

"False alarm." Tony said. Probably have to reboot the system later. He turned to look at Natasha, and froze.

She was standing in the middle of the room. Her face, light and happy only a minute ago, was twisted into an expression of pain. Her hands were clenched around her stomach, her body hunched over.

And she was pale. God, was she pale.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She didn't even look up.

"Natasha, talk to me." Something wasn't right. Something was wrong and it was scaring the hell out of him.

She just shook her head. "Can't…breathe." Her legs gave out but Tony caught her before she hit the floor.

He could feel her body tensing around his arms. She was biting down on her lips hard enough to draw blood, and he knew why. She was trying not to scream.

He set her down on the sofa as gently as he could and put a hand against her forehead. She was burning up. "Natasha, you need to talk to me." He was starting to panic. "You need to tell me what to do." He had an endless supply of machines and tools and iron man suits and none of them meant anything right now.

Natasha's hands were clenched into fists. When she spoke, her tenth were clenched. "It's the Red Room."

Tony knelt beside her. His shaking hands tried to smooth the hair back from her sweaty face. "What do you mean, baby?"

Fuck, even his voice was shaking,

"It was some...something they used to use." Her breath hitched as another jolt of pain swept through her. "Tony, they must've put it in…our food."

Tony's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. 'It's because of Ivan." He whispered. He couldn't manage the strength to make the words any louder. "They think you killed him."

Natasha turned to look at him. "This isn't your f—"she broke off with a cry, her hands clutching at her stomach.

"Natasha?" His hands were on either side of her face and he could feel the sweat at her temples. But then he saw her lips and they were blue, as if she were cold. Tony swore under his breath. "Tell me, please baby, tell me what to do." He was using every bit of strength he had to keep it together. But he was starting to slip.

Natasha tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out. Her vision was starting to go blurry. She fought to stay focused on one thing, just one. Tony's face swan before her eyes, a mixture of fear and anxiety and panic etched into his features. Her hand came up slowly, resting on his cheek. "…s'okay…" she said groggily. But then the darkness drew her in and had no more strength left to fight it. Her eyes drifted closed, her hand slipping off his cheek.

Tony's vision went red as his hand jumped to her throat. Thank fuck, she was still breathing. But he didn't know how long she was going to stay that way. They had to move.

"Jarvis, start the car." He yelled. He gathered Natasha in his arms and moved as fast as he could out the door.

He strapped her into seat before he went behind the wheel. Somehow they made it to Shield, though Tony had no clue how—his eyes had darted over to her about every two seconds, checking to make sure she was still breathing. That she was still alive.

After a stunningly awful parking job he got Natasha out of the car and carried her to the medical wing. She still hadn't stirred, but her face was even whiter than it was before, her red hair standing out against the milk white skin. He couldn't look at her without his stomach clenching.

Not like this. It couldn't happen like this.

He wouldn't let the nurses touch her, just yelled at them until they led him over to an empty bed. It wasn't until Natasha started convulsing that they pulled him out the room, security having to physically hold him down to get the nurses in to help her. He knew, somewhere in the back of his head, that it was the right thing to do, that she needed them. But he needed her, and right now that was the only thing he could focus on.

Fury came into the room then, and told security to let him go. In any other circumstances Tony would have made some kind of wise crack, some smart remark at the director. But all he did was nod before turning to watch Natasha through the window in her room. The nurses were running tests trying to figure out what had been put in her food.

"You need to let them do their job, Stark." Fury said. He moved to stand next to Tony at the window.

Tony tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. He hated seeing her like this. She looked so small in the hospital bed, with the machines looming over her. He bowed his head, gripping the window frame.

"I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help her, she just—" His hands were shaking again.

"I'm not going to ask why Romanoff was with you at your house this evening. Not until she's in recovery." Tony wasn't looking at Fury but he could hear something in his voice that wasn't usually there. Sounded like sympathy. Understanding. "I'm going to contact the rest of the team. No one goes on any assignments until we know what did this."

Tony nodded, eyes on Natasha. After a few minutes Fury left, presumably to notify the others. Alone in the room, Tony leaned his head against the window, closed his eyes, and let himself cry, while he waited for news that Natasha would be okay.


End file.
